


The Bane of Batman

by ScaryScarecrows



Series: Garage Tapes [7]
Category: Gotham City Garage (Comics)
Genre: BEHOLD, Damian has less chill than a volcano, Gen, JASON HAS OBTAINED ONE (1) BABY BROTHER, fuck off DC you have no power here, too bad for him that everyone around him can just pick him up and carry him away
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-08 17:34:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17985620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScaryScarecrows/pseuds/ScaryScarecrows
Summary: Dove blinks a few times, gestures a little, and finally gets out a, “Jay.”“I promise he’s not rabid.”Damian lets go of the jacket and hisses, “Unhand me so that you may die like a man!”Okay, that’s a little bad.





	The Bane of Batman

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a bit of a 'what if', partially inspired by the Red Hood Fan Series (haven't seen that? It's everything you ever wanted, I promise.) over on YouTube. And then, because I have no impulse control, it became a Thing.

When a scouting party dumps a…nine? Nine and a half?...year-old kid on Jason’s office floor, his first thought is that these idiots kidnapped a kid from the Garden for some unfathomable reason.

His second thought is that Drouot should know better than this.

“Really.”

The kid’s trussed up from neck to ankles. There’s an empty scabbard on his back, multiple pockets on his pants, and burning rage in his eyes. He’s gagged, which is strange but not unexpected in a kidnapping, and something about him is familiar.

“Yup.”

“What the hell.”

“He attacked us, boss,” Drouot says dryly. “Came flying off a cliff screaming bloody murder.”

What the hell?

He ungags the kid and nearly gets bit for his troubles. **Then** comes the screaming.

“I will slaughter you all!”

Pfft. Okay.

“What’s your name, kid.”

The kid turns purple with fury and spits out, “I am no **kid** , cretin. I am Damian al Ghul.”

He knows the last name. The Hoods have…interacted…with the al Ghul cult (it’s totally a cult, there is no other explanation) from time to time. Talia, their second-in-command, used to like him.

Y’know. Before he burned down half the compound and stole their shit. But hey, this is a lawless land, and she absolutely would have done the same. She said so.

“Uh-huh.”

Somehow, the kid-Damian, gee, what a fitting name-gets even angrier. He puffs up and bristles and struggles against his bonds before seething, “I am trained to kill the Batman. You will be no trouble.”

“And yet, here you are, tied up in my office.”

Okay, so maybe it’s a little mean to make fun of the nine-year-old. But c’mon, look at the kid! Look at him! He’s like a stabby kitten.

Jason’s kitten idea only grows when the kid tries and fails to muffle a sneeze. The sneeze is high-pitched and his face scrunches up and holy crap, it’s hilarious and kind of adorable. Drouot turns away, shoulders quaking just a little, and there, see? He’s not the only asshole in the room.

“He tried to attack you?”

“I did attack! And I would have been successful if not for—”

“Sh.”

Damian, amazingly, shuts up. Jason thinks it’s shock that does it. Attitude that haughty, no one’s ever told him to sh in his entire life, he’ll bet on his shattered gravestone.

“Mm-hm. Trent, uh, saw him falling and snatched him outta the air.”

This just keeps getting better.

“Why here.”

Drouot jerks his head and they step outside. The kid starts screeching again, but with the door shut, it’s muffled.

“We went looking around, up where he came from. There’s no one left.”

“What?”

“Just. Just a bonfire, you know the type.” Oh. The plague fire. Great. “Looks like he’s been on his own for a little bit already.”

He spares a minute to feel sorry for Talia. She may have vowed to have his head and…other choice bits of his anatomy…mounted to a corkboard, but still. She was a worthy opponent. Maybe a little more than that.

“Great.”

“Yeah. It didn’t feel right, just leaving him.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He rubs his face. It’s too early for this shit. “I’m gonna take him home, I guess.”

What else is he supposed to do? Damian’s a kid, first of all, and second of all, he’s **Talia’s** kid. (Not his kid, thank goodness, the ages don’t sync up. Thank God for small favors.) But he can’t stay here. It’s one thing for **him** to be a reckless swashbuckler. But Damian’s what, three feet tall? Uh-uh.

“You sure you can handle him, sir?”

Rude. But to be fair…yeah. It’s a fair question. He eyes the Car, the pride and joy, and has an idea.

“I think I can make him behave, yeah.”

* * *

Damian leaps at Jason and tries to strangle him the second the ropes are off. Jason settles for carrying him at arm’s length, fingers firmly at the scruff of his neck. Little goblin.

The death threats cease when he sees the Car. All speech ceases when he’s plunked in the passenger’s seat, barring a small, “This is Batman’s car.”

“Was, kid.” He hops into the driver’s seat. “Was Batman’s car. And it’s still got some nasty surprises inside, so try to kill me at your own risk.”

“I do not try. I do.”

Something tells him that laughing is a bad idea.

Damian keeps his hands in his lap, but his head’s moving every which way. Jason’s not sure he’s even blinking over there.

“What happened out there, kiddo?”

“Do not call me kiddo.”

“Damian.”

The boy deflates, then, twisting his fingers and looking at his shoes.

“My grandfather became ill,” he says. “Mother sent me away. She told me that it was an exercise, wilderness training. I returned, after a week, and.” He takes a deep breath. “There was no one left.”

It’s an effort not to reach over and, like, pet him. Or something. He thinks he’ll need rabies shots and bandages if he tries, but it’s still tempting.

An awkward silence settles over the car. They’re still a good forty minutes out, and this thing has no radio. They’re working on it, but for the time being, it’s got nothin’.

“I’m sorry,” he says at last, and Damian **snaps.**

“Don’t lie to me!” Damn, he’s loud. “We both know you’re only out to finish the job.”

It takes a few minutes for that to compute all the way, but when it does, Jason slams on the brakes. The Car halts where it rolls, sending up clouds of dust and goatheads.

“Let’s get something straight here, tater tot,” he says, resisting the urge to grab his shoulders and make him stop looking at his boots. “I don’t kill kids. Ever. Doesn’t matter where they come from or what they do. I’m takin’ ya for food, and a bath, and a good night’s sleep, and that’s it.”

“Rubbish.”

Was he this sort of stubborn asshole as a kid? He can’t remember. He was certainly less stabby, he remembers that.

“Tell ya what, when we get there, if you still don’t believe me, you can have a ten second head start.”

Silence. He starts driving again and this time, he lets the conversation stay dead.

Damian, predictably, bolts the second the Car is open. Jason climbs out, gives him fifteen seconds, and tackles him. When he knocks a minute later, Damian’s attempting to chomp through his jacket.

“So you know how I always wanted a kid sibling?” He goes with his best shit-eating grin and jiggles the brat. Said brat snarls. “I went and found one for myself!”

Dove blinks a few times, gestures a little, and finally gets out a, “Jay.”

“I promise he’s not rabid.”

Damian lets go of the jacket and hisses, “Unhand me so that you may die like a man!”

Okay, that’s a little bad.

“He sneezes like a kitten,” he says, because Dove does not look thrilled that he’s brought a tiny murderer home. “And he’s, uh, little.”

“Judge me by my size, will you?”

He loves him already. Holy crap, this is great.

“Where did…”

“He doesn’t…exactly…” He’d shrug, but that’ll give Damian some sort of advantage and he really doesn’t want to get bit. Or stabbed. Or otherwise maimed. “Kid, chill, you’re not gonna be grilled or anything.”

“You didn’t kidnap him,” she says, and wow, that’s hurtful. But kind of understandable, to be completely fair.

“Can I keep him, Ma? Please, please, please?”

Tiny murderer or not, she looks like she’s trying very hard not to laugh.

“Get in.”


End file.
